


All These Years

by ConfessionForAnotherTime



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 17:17:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2118210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConfessionForAnotherTime/pseuds/ConfessionForAnotherTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the best things are the ones that makes us not just wonder why we're here, but why we stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All These Years

Grif ran his thumb over the engraving of the small metal tag.  
He told Simmons he would keep to his word. The scenario had been running over and over in his head as the days moved to weeks, the weeks into months. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to miss Sarge. He wondered how he was holding up, though he knew that all in all, Wash and Donut weren’t far from him. Grif dismissed that thought, realizing that Locus and his men wouldn’t keep Sarge, Donut and Wash within shouting distance of one another. He didn’t expect anyone to understand why he would worry about Sarge. Truth be told, he hadn’t even told Simmons about his worries. No one would believe him if he told them he was worried about Sarge.  
“What’s that in your hand?” Simmons asked as he entered their shared bathroom. To keep things mostly under wraps, Simmons’ bunk was in the room adjacent to his that shared the same bathroom. Neither of them thought that Kimball would bat an eye at it considering how much the Chorus soldiers thought that Wash and Tucker were the romance of the ages. He just didn’t want to steal that thunder, nor did he want to deal with the attention.  
“What? Nothing.” Grif snapped out of his thoughts, moving to pocket the dog tag that didn’t belong to him.  
“Like hell it’s nothing. Grif, gimme that.” Simmons snatched the dog tag out of his hand, ignoring Grif’s protests. “Grif, what is this?” Simmons asked as he stared at the engraving.  
“Like I told you. It’s nothing,” Grif deflected.  
“It sure doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like one of the dog tags I lost years ago before we ever left Blood Gulch. It looks like someone I love lying to me. It looks like secrets being kept. Now Grif, how can you tell me that ‘it’s nothing’?” Simmons asked, his tone getting louder with each accusation. At this point, Simmons has stripped off his armor plating and was just in his kevlar suit. He had angrily tossed each of the pieces to his room through the door joining their rooms, washing the sweat off his face in the bathroom sink.  
“You really want to know why it’s nothing, Simmons, really? Why I keep part of your dog tags with me? Because I was thinking about Sarge.” Grif stopped as soon as the words left his mouth.  
“Sarge? What does he have to do with me?” Simmons asked, clearly agitated. Grif stood to meet his stance.  
“That came out wrong. I was thinking about him because I was wondering how badly it would hurt me to be in Tucker’s spot. I was thinking about how lost I would be without being able to see you or know that you were safe each day. I’ve been thinking about what it would be like if you were in his spot. How terrified I would be. How I would have likely gotten Bitters killed to find out information about where they were keeping you, in the same way that Tucker disregarded Felix and got Rogers and Cunningham killed. I was thinking about how much it would suck to only have a piece of metal with your name on it that I stole while Sarge had you under anesthesia when he was ensuring that I wouldn’t die. I worry about you. Everyday I worry about you. I worry about me not coming back. I worry about how you would handle being without me. The last several months have been rather taxing on my emotional process,” Grif explained, watching the anger flow out of Simmons face.  
“To be honest, I don’t know what I would do,” Grif ended, taking a seat on the bed behind him.  
“Have you seriously been holding onto that dog tag for that long?” Simmons asked in a hushed tone as he sat down next to Grif. Grif put an arm around Simmons’ shoulders, pulling him in for a sideways hug.  
“It’s been with me for years.”  
Simmons smiled.  
“Just like you.”


End file.
